


smile like you used to

by Raphiael



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raphiael/pseuds/Raphiael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don’t look so sad. C’mon, Ephraim, smile. Like you used to."<br/>Ephraim/Lyon ficlets, usually from my blog. Works range from silly-fluff to somehow worse than canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in defense

**Author's Note:**

> I used to feel pretty awkward about liking this pairing, and especially about publishing works about it, but then I decided I didn't really care anymore. Apologies if there are repeats from other ficlet collections. This is pretty much a continual work in progress as I add more. I'm also not paying much attention to when things were written.   
> Thanks for reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "I wish I could hate you"

Vigarde’s body hadn’t fallen when Ephraim runs it through. It  _crumples,_ less like a corpse than like a twig in a fire pit, until nothing is left but strangely bloodless robes, a crown, and so much black ash. 

Even the monsters he’d fought hadn’t gone down like that. There’s a lingering stench of sulfur and burning left in the air, more noticeable now that Lyon’s gone. It’s only when Ephraim realizes it smells like meat dropped in a fire that he turns away from his men to be sick. 

It’s Duessel who comes to his side first, after pausing a moment to murmur a prayer for what’s left of his emperor.

“Have you ever seen… anything like that?” Ephraim asks, though he knows the answer before Duessel grimly shakes his head. 

“If Prince Lyon claims responsibility, then…” 

“ _No.”_

“Prince Ephraim?” 

“There’s no way… Lyon wouldn’t do this. He  _couldn’t_ do this.” It’s hard to hide the weakness at his knees, the urge to just sit and thin this over, but Ephraim tries to pretend as if he isn’t leaning on his spear to stay upright. It isn’t just the smell anymore, or the wounds he’s sustained — it’s remembering what Lyon had said before he disappeared again.

_I’ve been planning this my whole life. Why else would I befriend you and Eirika?_

“Something’s wrong. Lyon would never… He’d never create anything this horrible. And… he’d _never_  say those things. Not to me.” 

A little too much. Duessel has the grace to pretend he doesn’t notice.

“I hope you are correct,” the general answers, clapping Ephraim’s shoulder. Ephraim tries not to think what might happen if he’s wrong.


	2. nothing that matters now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "things you said that I wish you hadn't"

"He said he hated me." 

It’s the first Ephraim’s spoken directly of Lyon since they returned to Renais. If it weren’t for that, Eirika’s not sure she’d believe him. 

 _He didn’t hate you. That wasn’t him._ It would be easy to say that, but Eirika suddenly isn’t sure it’s true. 

"Did he say anything else?" 

Ephraim is silent for a moment, staring down at the stack of letters from Grado that seem to have sparked the thought in the first place.

"No," he answers finally. "Nothing that matters now." 


	3. i don't mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "things you said at 1 a.m."

It’s only when they’re alone that Ephraim finds himself feeling shy, almost awkward, around Lyon. Eirika always understands him better, catches onto lessons quicker, knows just what to say when he’s ill or upset. 

But now there’s no Eirika to look to, and still, Lyon won’t quite meet his eyes. There’s nothing else to see, which makes the silence even worse. 

Finally, Lyon speaks, quietly, barely a whisper. They’re far out of earshot in his chambers, up late going over lessons at first, but now neither of them can get to sleep. 

"I… I don’t mind tutoring you like this, you know." 

Ephraim can’t remember half of what Lyon had gone over, now, but he nods anyway. 


	4. i can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "holding hands"

When Lyon reaches for his hand and squeezes it tight, Ephraim can still feel the shards of stone biting into the flesh of his palm, even through the worn leather of his glove. 

He wants to snarl at the demon before him, lash out, protect what’s left of Lyon somehow from being  _this_. But he still can’t move except to squeeze Lyon’s hand in turn, and no words seem enough to capture what he wants to say.

"Your father said your name when I killed him," the thing that  _can’t_ be Lyon breathes, barely above a whisper at Ephraim’s ear. “Yours and your sister’s, over and over again. So helpless.” Ephraim can’t see the feral smile, but he can hear it in the words, that edge of mocking laughter. “You must hate me.” 

He wants to, so badly, more than anything. It would make everything so much easier, so much simpler, if he could just —

"I can’t," he answers, holding tighter. He can feel the shards piercing his glove, scraping his unprotected skin. "I can’t." 


	5. don't go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was for some variety of hurt/comfort prompt, or consoling, something like that

Even Ephraim can catch the sniffle Lyon tries to stifle. When Eirika cries, he knows exactly what to do, but this is different. He reaches over to pat Lyon’s back, but that only seems to make it worse. 

"Really… you’re welcome in Renais anytime."

Lyon mumbles, barely audible, “I don’t want you to go.” 

"You’re acting like this is the last time you’re ever going to see us." 

That doesn’t seem to help, either. Lyon covers his face and pulls away, barely even trying to hide his sobs anymore. 

_If Eirika were here, she’d know what to do._

He pulls Lyon into an uncomfortable, awkward embrace, the way he thinks Eirika might. He tries to say  _I promise I’ll write,_ but before he can, Lyon’s already sobbing and sniffling directly into the front of his shirt. 


	6. you were always going to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "role reversal"

_He’s my brother. I know he wouldn’t do this._

That’s what Eirika keeps saying, even though there’s still a mark on her throat where he pressed the head of his spear, just enough to make her bleed.

He didn’t look like Eirika’s brother anymore. Lyon could only see a glimmer of familiarity in his cruel smile and cocky stance the last time they met, but he can’t tell Eirika that. He’s sure she knows already, even if she won’t say it.

But with Ephraim so close to him now, close enough that Lyon can feel his breath on his face, it’s hard to remember that. He looks so familiar now, his smile easy and friendly, his hands warm and firm at Lyon’s back, the way he tries to pretend he’s never imagined.

"It was always you and Eirika, always _so suited for each other_. You were always going to leave me. I know.” Ephraim tips his head to the side, his teeth bared slightly, a tiny feral gesture that doesn’t seem right, but makes Lyon dizzy nonetheless.

"You always thought I was stupid, right? You wanted to marry her, and take her from me, and leave me to be king all alone — hotheaded, foolish King Ephraim, never perfect and gentle like _you two_.”

He’s running his hand down Lyon’s sides, forceful and warm and good, but— the stone is there. He _knows_. And Lyon knows he could move, step away, save the stone, run back to Eirika and tell her  _we can’t save him_.

He doesn’t. He stands still as Ephraim pulls the stone free, stares as Ephraim rolls it around in one hand. The other hand is still at Lyon’s back, moving upward to his hair, his neck.

"I wasn’t," Lyon says. "No. We were going to be together, the three of us—"

Ephraim’s body presses against him. His breath is hot on Lyon’s ear, close enough that Lyon can feel teeth.

"I share everything with her. I  _won’t_  share you.”

Lyon comes back, hours later, with only shards in his trembling hands and twigs tangled in his hair. 


	7. remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "smile"

Ephraim’s throat was dry and raw for shouting. Slowly, he’d become aware of the trembling at his fingers, the shivers building in his chest, half like the thrill that would coarse through him right after a satisfying spar. 

And Lyon was still looking at him, waiting. 

_Smile?_

He couldn’t even say how long it had been, but he drew close, breathing through his mouth so he wouldn’t smell the blood again. It didn’t work. He thought he could taste it. 

"Lyon… remember how we used to go out into the gardens together when we were meant to be in lessons?"

Grado’s gardens had been far more elaborate than anything Renais had to offer. Ephraim remembered vibrant gold, violet, red. He couldn’t recall the names of any of the flowers, though he knew Lyon had told him once. They’d sat together on the cold marble bench while Lyon had pointed to all the different parts and talked — he remembered more of the bright red on Lyon’s delicate fingers and the shy excitement building in Lyon’s voice than he remembered of the lesson.

He couldn’t say what brought it to mind. Maybe it was the colors —  red on violet and gold, like bloodied robes. He forced that away;  _not yet, not yet._ He couldn’t think about it yet, couldn’t look too closely at what he’d done. He thought the rustle at his arms was a nod, so he kept going.

"Remember… remember the time I climbed that apple tree near your window, just because you said I couldn’t? And…" 

 _And you fell from the top of it while you were showing off, and I had to heal you before Father MacGregor found out,_ he could imagine Lyon saying.

"But the apples from the top were so good, right? You said they were the best you’d ever tasted, and we lied to Father MacGregor and said we’d just stolen them from the kitchen, but Eirika knew, she always did…" 

He could laugh at that — Eirika trying so hard to be stern, scolding them both for being so reckless, scolding  _him_  for being a terrible influence on poor Lyon, softening the moment Lyon pushed a ripe apple into her hands.

He finally looked. He thought Lyon smiled back, if only for a second, before he closed his eyes and didn’t open them again. 


	8. darling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for the prompt "Ephraim/Lyon/Knoll", but Knoll deserves good things so I only kind of went there.

The thing they found in the ruins isn’t Lyon. Knoll thinks Ephraim knows, but still the king murmurs the name, over and over again, as if waiting for a response.

"There must be something you can do," Ephraim says, looking to Knoll with desperate eyes. "If I could just have one moment to apologize…"

There’s nothing Knoll can do. He knows that. But he’s seen that desperation before, when his prince begged him to break the seal on the sacred stone, and he can’t deny it, even now.

"I’ll try," he says.


	9. happy endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "actual happy ending AU". Insert joke about my writing tendencies here.

Ephraim kisses him on impulse in the library, quick and gentle. He apologizes a moment later and grabs his books to leave, but Lyon reaches for his hand and shakes his head. 

"No, don’t, I… I liked it." 

-

Lyon’s father is dying. There’s no changing that, Lyon knows, but he scrawls the letter to Ephraim anyway, scrubs the tears out of the edges of the parchment and hopes they won’t show. 

The wyvern messenger comes back with another passenger in tow — the first thing Ephraim does is pull Lyon into an embrace, not caring who else sees for the moment. 

"Your father will be angry," Lyon murmurs, "and what about Eirika?" 

Ephraim shakes his head. “Eirika understands,” he says. “I think Father will too.” 

- 

The quake rocks southern Grado two years later. At first, Lyon’s sick with worry, but Ephraim rides back to him just past midnight, alive, intact. 

"The evacuation went as planned," he says before leaning in for a kiss, almost like a claim of victory. "No one’s hurt. I’m sure of it."

"I used to hate you when you smiled like that," Lyon mumbles, and Ephraim laughs before kissing him again, as if Lyon isn’t being serious. 


	10. don't do studying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "the cutest Ephraim/Lyon shenanigan you can give me". Probably could have been cuter.

Lyon thinks he recognizes the name on the tutor request, but he isn’t quite sure from where. It’s only when his biology tutee walks — no,  _struts_  — in with a lacrosse stick over his shoulder that he pieces it together. That’s the name of the athlete who always seems to be in the university paper for one reason or another.

"You, uh, must be Ephraim."

Lyon expects the same sulky, muttered response he usually gets from athletes trying to pass their cores just so they can stay on the team. Instead, he gets a broad smile, even as Ephraim pushes forward a test with a grade so low it makes Lyon’s stomach flip. Or maybe it’s the smile making his stomach flip. It’s hard to tell.

"Lyon, right? I’m probably past help on all this…  _plant stuff_ , but I heard you’re better at teaching than any of the tutors.”

He _might_  be beyond help, with that score. But he’s already sitting down, and he’s got such a charming smile, and for some distressing reason Lyon can quite readily imagine being run through with a lacrosse stick if he says no.

"Of course. Well, ah, first off… how long did you study for this exam?"

Ephraim tilts his head to the side, a bit like a dog, but somehow still endearing. “I don’t _do_ studying,” he says plainly.

This might be harder than Lyon thought.


	11. no such thing as second chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "zombies"

No one really goes near the silent members of the army, and, for the most part, they return the favor. They don’t cluster together, or really do much at all, save follow orders, and everyone seems thankful they tend to stay away. Ephraim’s no exception. When the thing that looks like his father stares past him, he forces back his recoil, but turns away. The only order they won’t follow is  _leave_ , and killing them — _again_  — seems so cruel.

Though no one likes, being around them, some of them are better off than others. The thing like his father is decently kept. He thinks Seth does it when no one is watching at night — and the Jehan queen is the same way, for reasons he doesn’t understand. He notices soon enough that the Gradan wyvern knight he half-remembers seems clean and tended to as well.

It only makes seeing the state of some of them worse.

Eirika won’t go near them, he knows that, and he can’t ask her to, not after everything. He doesn’t want to himself, but there’s only so long he can watch one of them stagger around, hair tangled, face splattered with mud and gore.

"Lyon, come here."

The thing follows orders, stands at his side, blank and silent as always. Ephraim winces. There’s no wound, no tear, but he knows exactly the spot his lance found.

"Let me… here."

He pours water out onto his hands, rubs it on stained cheeks to start. Lyon — it’s easier to just think that — is perfectly still and perfectly warm, breathing even and calm against Ephraim’s fingers. It’s strange to be so silent with him, strange to touch him or look at him or be anywhere near him.

"I’m sorry," Ephraim mumbles, genuine, but wanting more to break the quiet than anything else. He gently tugs the tangles out of Lyon’s hair, though he can’t make it sit the way Lyon always wore it before. It bends awkwardly to one side, as if laid on, but there’s nothing more to be done for it, and Lyon’s gaze hasn’t moved from the point on the horizon he’s been staring at since Ephraim called him over. 

There’s plenty to be said. Lyon won’t hear, but Ephraim thinks of saying it anyway, more than just _I’m sorry._  He wants to be angry, to shout, to accuse, to somehow change what’s before him now. _You could have told us. We would have helped you._  And they would have, he and Eirika, it could have worked, they could have all stayed as they were and Lyon and Eirika both would still smile like they used to in those garden-bright days before.

Lyon is quiet. Ephraim is too, for a moment. He pulls his hands from Lyon’s hair and waits, as if looking long enough will somehow wake Lyon up. 

Nothing changes.

"Go now," Ephraim says at last, and Lyon obeys without a second’s hesitation.


	12. i like it here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pokemon AU!

Ephraim arrives in Lyon’s town with plenty of fanfare. He doesn’t ask for it, exactly, but he doesn’t exactly try to avoid it when he swoops in on the back of legendary Latios. He’s a Champion, after all, one of two, and he hasn’t been shy about showing it off since he gained the title with Eirika.

Lyon knows why here’s there. He waits in the tower instead of going to meet him. The tower is high and dark and famously dangerous, and he knows Ephraim will climb all the way up to see him, and the thought of that makes him smile. 

Ephraim comes with both Latios and Arcanine in tow, and the fear of the old tower and all that haunts it is clear on his face. He smiles and extends a hand anyway, and Lyon returns it even as Mismagius drifts over to investigate the others. 

"We could still use a ghost trainer in the Four, you know — and L’Arachel’s thinking of leaving, so…" 

Lyon shakes his head. “I like it here,” he says. “I don’t want to leave.”

It’s not dishonest, but not fully true. Ephraim’s never scared on his cozy plateau, and Lyon still likes to see him shiver.


	13. kittens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt was kittens, and I am a bad person

It was soft and small and made convincingly pleading mews at Ephraim’s feet, convincing enough that he bent to pick it up and caress it despite its awkward stagger and dazed-looking eyes. 

"Does it have a name?" he asked Lyon as he scritched the gray spot behind the kitten’s ear. The kitten mewed again, the same tone as before.

"Monica," Lyon answered with a smile.


	14. creature of habit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coffee shop AU prompt. Also inspired some adorable art: http://siegmunds.tumblr.com/post/49180442358/skasaher-submitted-hi-sorry-i-couldnt

He’s not a creature of habit - if he were, Lyon would have had his order memorized already. At the very least, he always comes in around the same time in the morning, always gets a drink and something to eat, always buys something for his sister, who likes to sit in the back and chat with her friends while he makes small talk with the staff. And Lyon always thinks about leaving his number in sharpie next to the name on the cup, drawing a heart in chocolate syrup over the whipped cream, doing something,  _anything_ — 

But he’s a creature of habit himself, and is content for now to imagine it as he packs up the drinks and pastries and hands them over with a smile. 


End file.
